The Ghost Haunting Manfred
by Grace-Logan
Summary: The ghosts are getting noisy and keeping Manfred up. He's getting worn out and testier by the day. The residents of Midnight only want to help but they're so very far out of their depths with powers they've never encountered before.


As usual, the Midnight natives had gathered in the back room of Home Cookin'. Lemuel and Olivia had just shown up, forced to sit apart by lack of available chairs. Olivia took the closest seat to the entrance, between Fiji and Joe, and Lemuel made the trek around the table to slide in-between Manfred and Bobo. He sat heavily in the chair. Manfred saw it as a testament to how hungry Lem was, he himself being famished and scoffing down his own dinner as fast as he could. He came in hungry enough that he felt weak at the knees as well, having been haunted the past week by noisy ghosts and one creepily persistent silent bastard trying to possess him he'd been on guard and using up plenty of energy he usually didn't.

He could feel Lemuel's eyes on him, he knew he was eating like a pig. He'd only just headed off the others when he and Olivia had joined them.

"It won't run away Manfred."

Manfred grunted affirmation but kept at his meal like he expected it to grow legs and jet and be told it was all he'd get for another week. Lemuel only huffed with amusement and went on to engage in Olivia and Fiji's conversation about some soap opera they all watched. Lemuel was an episode behind it seemed, but from there on Manfred zoned out. Focused entirely on his food.

The table was rowdy, lively in a way it only was when everyone was together and it wasn't just three or four of them around. Rounding up the crumbs of his meal Manfred hailed down a waitress and ordered another plate to raised eyebrows and no questions from everyone bar Lemuel.

"Manfred, are you quite alright? It seems as though you-"

"M'fine." Manfred cut in around his last mouthful. And that drove all eyes to him. He wasn't usually the interrupting kind. Especially not the snappish sort. He finished chewing and swallowed, a tiny flame of guilt lighting in his chest.

"Sorry." He muttered, "Spirits been keeping me up."

It was now that Fiji jumped in.

"But your place is a dead zone. Spirits can't get in." She said and Manfred scoffed feeling a blast of contempt hit him. They really had no idea.

"Yeah, doesn't mean they don't stand at the windows and scream all night. All day…"

Now came the looks of pity. From everyone. And to make it better, Manfred felt worse the nastier he got with them but he couldn't seem to stop himself. Even here the spirits were all over him, crowding as much as they could, chattering, moaning, groaning, some yelling. No screamers but he could tell some were getting close to the edge.

"Jesus Manfred, why didn't you say anything? I could help." Fiji said.

"Maybe you could. Maybe, but not definitely. Far as I know there's no way to turn off my powers or block them out. They've just been, noisy, lately is all. They won't talk to me so I can't help them move on and a lot of them just won't shut up!" He yelled the last part at a particularly loud ghost in the corner of the room. If he could strangle a ghost…

The rooms living, and undead, occupants threw the corner a glance but saw nothing, as per usual. Some days it was hard to believe Manfred wasn't just crazy. From the looks of things this spirit had taken offence and had drawn Manfred into an argument about noise pollution and the human need to sleep.

Distracted, Manfred didn't notice the group begin discussing ways to help him if they could. More and more spirits seemed to be joining the argument and between all of them they wound Manfred up like a spring-loaded jack in the box. Lemuel could feel Manfred's emotions as though he were sitting next to a furnace ready to blow and came to his own conclusion to help him. He gripped Manfred's wrist and leeched away his emotions and strength, hoping to put Manfred into an exhaustion induced sleep.

Only when Manfred realised what was happening, almost half a minute into Lem leeching him, he switched from anger to fear in an instant. The anger still there, still fueled by the ghosts still yelling at him. But the fear, so intense and ice cold. Lemuel knew he had made a mistake somehow, but he could also sense the fear wasn't for him.

Manfred turned back to the table, went sheet white and jerked back, knocking over his chair and tripping himself up.

"Manfred!"

Lemuel was the only thing that kept him standing though he ripped his arm from Lem's grip, eyes trained on something perhaps an arm's length from his face. Something that terrified him and he looked ready to drop from Lem's leeching.

He backed up into the wall very quickly, scaring himself. He looked wildly around, as though trapped, and then ran from the room to the shocked calls of his name.

He bolted through Home Cookin', almost taking out a customer going to pay for their meal, out the doors, across the street and down the road to his house where he slammed the door shut behind him. Drew all the curtains, retreated to his room and cocooned himself in his dooner, covered that with an extra blanket and buried his head under two flimsy pillows.

The spirits still screamed and yelled at his windows, even more so now that he had argued with them. But beneath his fluffy protection he could relax enough to fall quickly into a deaf cloud of sleep.


End file.
